Burning Eyes
by Eclipse Wing
Summary: Nibelheim has burned once more to the ground and now it's time the others got their due. It's five years since Zack returned to Midgar, a hero. But now, ghosts are stirring and the crisis is beginning again. Not everybody is as dead as they first appear and not everybody has a positive agenda.
1. Fire

**CLOUD - FIRE**

"_Crash, crash, burn. Let it all burn. This hurricane's chasing us all underground… so let it breathe, let it fly, let it go, let it fall, let it crash, burn slow. Then you call upon God. Oh then you call upon God." Hurricane 30 Seconds to Mars feat. Kayne West._

* * *

The pages curled grey in the fire, burning _in fire and flames and dancing ice._

His eyes flared mako green, pupils sliding into cat like slits before rounding back to normal. His lips curled into a sneer at the burning article as it burnt (_burnt and crumbled into ash)._

His fingers idly played over his materia, and the colours danced beneath his fingers as he turned, walking away from the grate, the page still burning _smoking_ and crumbling into ash.

Six years. He never knew it had been that long. Six years of his life passing, in green and white, _green and white_ burning it up. He was twenty two. What had happened to _seventeen and eighteen and nineteen and all the years in between._ They were all lost, eaten away by mako and tubes and needles and lab coats.

His memories felt raw half the time. Life a mirror of broken fragments and shards. They spun, catching the light, and they cut, jagged wounds digging in, painfully reminding him of the missing moments, and the moments that never ever seemed to go away.

And even as he turned, walking away from the fire, which was only just starting to catch alight with the flames of hell, the face on the clipping was still seared into his memories, broken fragments and those violet blue mako eyes, _dancing, mocking, unknowing._

"_We're friends right?"_

His lips curled into a bitter smile. Once maybe. No more.

Behind him the door slammed shut, fanning the flames and the growing fire within. The village had burned once, to the ground. Now it would burn again, burning away the _fake _and the_ false_ and the _illusion_. Just like the mako had burnt away his memories and pieced them back together, fragmented and shattered.

Faintly he heard the call in his blood_ and in his cat slit eyes tinted green _for Reunion. It hummed through his veins, whispering and promising. He had become lost in it at one point, as the mako broke down his mind. But it had been humming for so long and he was all but immune now to the _humming living Jenova Mother._ The cells in his body were long dead as the mako ripped them apart. So much mako, he' drowned _burned_ in the stuff until his vision was green tinted and he breathed it as easily as air.

Then the Jenova cells, caught and trapped in the endless green, caught and trapped in the burning mako… his body became a battleground between the Calamity's cells and the lifestream plaguing his body. It had burned away Her cells, leaving them dead and shadows of their former self. The mako won the fight, but lost the battle as it was absorbed into the body, mingling with the blood and bone and muscle until he was convinced he would bleed green.

His eyes glowed eerily in the night, the mountain air cold and fresh. Blue eyes flickered faintly, dancing with the firelight from the flaring building behind him. Idly he slipped the sword from the loose sheath across his back.

He wished it didn't quite as strongly resemble Fair's large Buster Sword. His fusion blade was large, certainly, but not quite up for competing with the Buster. It was long enough in his opinion, and certainly nowhere near the length of Masumune, which was how he liked it. Still sheathed across his back in their loose leather sheath lay the other three blades, all that he could slip onto this main blade as easy as breathing.

Hojo would regret allowing his specimen to play with swords.

Failure. That one would come back to bite the scientist on his nose. It had taken time, as his body broke itself apart then slowly, _agonisingly _put itself back together. Long since left to rot in the laboratories, forgotten _lost._ There were times he thought that the scientist never expected him to recover at all.

There were times when he never quite worked out how he did.

Still, being Hojo's failure was much better than being a success, as he slid into the background, occasionally being called back to the lab for tests and _more tests and more tests _but normally Hojo forgot about him, the failed Sephiroth clone.

The Jenova cells never did quite hum the right tune in his ears.

And even though he had been broken _shattered into tiny little pieces _he had been allowed the time to stick himself back together. It had been slow _years_ it had been painful _each memory cut like a shard of glass _and he was fragile, as if a slight wind could break him.

But Fair would die. And he had to _would be_ the one to do it.

His fingers had torn the page from the newspaper a stray scientist had chucked at him from where he lurked in the basement. Chaos had watched on, amused at the rage that had flared in the green _mako green _eyes. He had almost devoured the news, the news of the betrayer who had left him to rot. But it made him sick at the tale they had spun, of the hero of Nibelheim, _there was no Nibelheim, burnt to the ground and a replacement built _hero and protector of the weak.

"_Me, I'm going to be a hero!"_

His hand clutching the table had caused the wood to splinter and Chaos to chuckle. And the Jenova cells and mako and _anger and pain and hate and betrayal _in his veins had hummed.

Vincent had cautioned him against rash actions - this being said by the ex-Turk who had spent his latest thirty years sleeping in a coffin, he couldn't exactly be the best source of advice _best source of company_ in the world. But it was better than Hojo and the scientists and the poor grunts assigned to guard the lab, terrified of the monsters that stalked within.

No.

It was just the one monster. Just him and the passages and corridors that he flaunted along, eyes glowing blue and materia dancing beneath his fingers.

Valentine never tended to leave his lonely environments of the basement, and Chaos couldn't be tempted out either, the demon preferring the soft darkness and solitude that sleeping on sins gave to an immortal man.

"Happy now?"

He turned away from the blaze that danced with _fire and passion and fury _all at the same time. His lips twitched mockingly and his eyes blazed with the burning flames. The black haired gunman leant against a tree, crimson eyes regarding him steadily, and behind the red iris, the faintest shadow of Chaos could be seen, although it was the ex-Turk that spoke.

"Very," his voice was low, soft but deadly. Behind him the false _illusion _burnt, burning _burning burning _until the screams were no more and the flames whose greedy fingers reached into the sky had no more to burn.

Nibelheim had burnt once more.

Failed, fail _failure._ Not now, not ever, as Hojo would soon find out. His dismissal was something he was extremely grateful for, as he lived and breathed and lived and burnt all underneath the scientist's big greasy nose.

And Vincent Valentine, slumbering on sins, awoken from his slumber with the shadow of a demon beneath his eyes had taken some choice information before deciding that there were things better than sleeping away your immortal life, and any chances to make a difference and repent himself should be taken _now and soon_ before time moved on once more in its great leaping bounds.

"Cloud."

It took him several seconds to process the name and turn in accordance, as was expected of him, his reaction. It had taken him days of trawling through data to find out who he had been. It had been the only memory to evade him, the only one that he had left, sitting in that cold green mako tank with the _pain and the sadness and the hurt. _

It had taken time, but he had found it, the name among names. He still wasn't sure when he would find himself though, lost as he was, scattered and shattered memories badly stuck together.

The ones he had wanted to forget the most, the ones of Fair, of smiles and laughter and _betrayal and pain and anger _wouldn't go away. No matter what he tried. So he had resolved to make _him_ go away instead. He would pay, and get what he deserved _the bastard_ the big brave soldier who had to leave it to a little cadet to sort the problem out then claimed the glory for himself, while the cadet lost himself in _mako and green and pain and jenova._

Not that he wanted the glory. Not that he wanted to be a poster boy for Shin-Ra, running around like dogs and _puppies. _But he hadn't asked for the labs, and he hadn't asked to be abandoned by a friend. One friend, only friend, best friend…

And Nibelheim had burnt, andhe had burnt and now it was _his_ turn. He would burn too violet eyes wide and knowing of his fate. Just as the paper article had caught alight, flaring and dancing _and burning and burning…_

Vincent eyed him warily as he turned, lips still curled in some twisted smile at the promise of what would happen to Fair. Oh he would burn alright.

Crash to the ground from his high podium. Crash to the floor and beg for forgiveness. Crash to the earth as reality hit home.

Oh yes, he would burn.

_Crash and Burn._

* * *

The blonde wasn't quite sure of his plan. His goal was clear, but the path to it wavering and shimmered in the sky, faint and confusing, a lost trail, _burnt trail._

And then he had fallen, tumbled from the sky in a whirlwind of metal and air, and_ why was he falling? _He hadn't meant to be the one to fall, _drop_, crash,_ burn_ from the sky, the plate, the sky plate that was the sky.

Then he had opened his eyes and met green, vivid earth and the soft smell of lilies and flowers.

"You fell from the sky. Came crashing down. You startled me."

"I came…crashing down?"

The responses were lost, and he stumbled awkwardly through the conversation, just like he done when meeting his childhood friend, a friend that he would never tell, _never admit,_ not even to himself, that he could barely remember.

"_Cloud Strife? It's me, Tifa… Tifa Lockhart. We were neighbours back in Nibel-"_

Her flowers were bright in the dullness of the slums, mostly a yellow sunshine colour, with some white, pink and a couple of red splashes of colour dotted around. The girl smiled her smile almost infectious, happy and innocent. "The roof and the flower bed must have broken your fall. You're lucky." She said, skipping around.

"Flower…bed…" he gestured around to it, "Is this yours?" The words felt strange in his mouth, and that clear, emotionless hatred, that notion of revenge… the path gave a violent tilt. "Sorry about…falling on them…"

"That's all right. The flowers here are quite resilient because this is a sacred place. They say can't grow grass and flowers in Midgar, but for some reason the flowers have no trouble blooming here." Her voice was soft and soothing, like cool earth against his burning, bitter wounds and he soaked it up, half listening to her talking, chatting on about the flowers, about her materia _"Good for absolutely nothing!" _and when she asked him what he did he took several seconds to longer than he should to formulate a response.

The hate and rage flared up, _burning,_ but then he glanced at those soft green eyes of the young girl…woman… and he paused. "Me?" he asked, confused and lost, "I don't really know…anymore… anything really…"

The girl laughed, sweet and soft, "Oh…a jack of all trades. My boyfriend's like a bit, 'cept he can't build anything to save his life! He tried to make me a flower cart, but it kinda' fell apart." Her smiled was infectious, and he felt his lips twitch when her gaze fell on something over his shoulder.

"Hey, Cloud… you said you do anything… you any good at being a bodyguard?"

The swordsman spun around, the soft green earth forgotten as the fire burned fresh, eyes flashing as he spotted the Shin-Ra uniform and that blasted suit. Turk.

"Please!" Aerith begged. "Take me home. I'll give you one date, okay?"

He wasn't listening, one hand reaching for his sword, stepping forwards. Well this was one way to get him message across to Fair. Burning eyes say the red headed Turk flinch back from his gaze, "Mako eyes…" he muttered under his breath, but the enhanced hearing picked it up.

One hand reached the hilt of his sword, his materia sparking. He could almost taste the blood already.

Then that dratted girl, the flower girl, threw earth on the burning flames, effectively dousing them as she cried, "Don't fight here! You'll ruin the flowers! Come on!" She spun around; racing away and the blonde paused for a moment, torn between protecting her - or tasting the blood of the Shin-Ra lapdogs that had made him into a monster.

With a snarl he whirled around, giving chase to the flower girl.

That dratted Turk tried to follow, but a Bolt spell or two put pay to that. The blonde was quite pleased. The flowers weren't even damaged.

He found Aerith outside the church, panting. "Th-they're looking, f-for me again."

"The Turks? What would they want with you?"

"Maybe they think I have what it take to be in SOLDIER," she joked, missing the issue and his blue eyes narrowed, considering. Maybe hanging out with this girl wasn't so bad if the Turks were stalking her. He wondered why though. Then she smiled, twirling around, the pink ribbon in her hair catching the light. "Let's go bodyguard!" she said, taking off and once again leaving him to follow, confused and lost.

The mother wasn't that welcoming. He hardly expected her to be. Aerith followed him when he tried to leave, all smiles and laughter, and he couldn't work out why she wasn't afraid. Why wasn't she scared of him like all the others? He was a monster, a failure, a piece of twisted soul… how could she be so nice? How could she not care?

"So are you in SOLDIER?"

"No."

"You don't talk much, do you?"

"…?"

"You're eyes have a strange glow. Isn't that the mark of a SOLDIER?"

"How do you know?"

"My boyfriend's a SOLDIER. First Class. What rank were you?"

"I wasn't in SOLDIER."

"Then why do your eyes glow?"

Because he was a monster. Because he was a human experiment gone wrong, a failure, lost and broken, shattered, burnt. Because this girl had made him consider what he would do, once he killed Fair, once Hojo was dead. Because he didn't have a purpose, and likely… never would…

"Cloud?"

He turned away. He didn't deserve her being so…so nice to him.

Briefly he considered that he should be the one to burn, _crash and burn_ instead of Fair. Maybe he deserved it… he wasn't exactly human anymore, his DNA twisted and laced with mako.

He'd crashed already, falling from the plate to land amongst the flowers. Aerith and her bubbly personality, happy go lucky, and her leaf _earth _green eyes smiling back at him.

His blood hummed for revenge, and his eyes burned for something, _anything_ to end the pain. The presence of the girl soothed it, and he could forget for precious moments that were far too few in number. The other girl…her name kept slipping away from his mind, even as he tried to latch onto it… Tifa…Tifa… she'd been like that. A calm, soothing promise of a future, of a past, of the solid evidence that he _existed_ and wasn't a clone, wasn't Hojo's mindless puppet.

And maybe somewhere there… somewhere there was a future.

He shook his head, clearing the whirlwind of thoughts. His gaze catching sight of a carriage passing the park. Soft wine coloured eyes trapped and helpless. Aerith turned, following his line of sight.

The girl was slightly mad. He could see that at least when she made him dress up, dragging him around Wall Market with great enthusiasm. _"Come on Cloud! You need to lighten up sometimes!"_ His fingers danced over his materia and he would have loved to burn the damn dress, but he was still puzzled, the goal only to clear but the path only too obscure.

She skipped along, a ball of bouncing fun, and for a moment he thought he saw traces of The Puppy in her actions. He didn't bother wondering how she even knew, about some aspects of the thriving trade of digestives and tiaras in the bustling market, or why he spotted, all too regularly, the flash of blue suits. One blue suit, he mildly noted, that Wutain man who had lost his pony tail.

The blonde didn't protest as Aerith dragged him towards the mansion, green eyes sparkling with determination and pure_ life._ He stumbled slightly in his heels, and wondered_ how the hell people walked in them_ as he made his way up towards the Don's mansion.

Currently Tifa and Aerith had priority over Fair, but that man would get his course. Well, he'd go along with it. It would bring him to that damn Fair and maybe he'd find what he was looking for along the way.

Maybe there was the promise of a future, somewhere in Midgar's smoky grey sky.

* * *

**AN - This can be considered a one-shot, or there can be more chapters added. This is my first Final Fantasy VII fic and I haven't played any of the games, but have read most of the scripts and watched the cutscenes on YouTube.**

**Obviously Cloud is OOC, but then he's just spent years in the lab, being the sole subject of Hojo's scrutiny. The mad scientist therefore concentrated more on him and took more care over his 'specimen'. I consider this story as having diverged from the main plotpost the Nibelheim Incident. (although following the canon plot line of FFVII) The change is hopefully quite obvious.**

**Hope you enjoy. ~ Eclipse**


	2. Ice

**VINCENT – ICE**

"_I've become so numb I can't feel you there. I've become so tough, so much more aware. I'm becoming this all I want to do, is be more like me and be less like you." Numb – Linkin Park_

* * *

There were times the ice burnt like fire. And the ice in those mako blue eyes burnt with flames of _anger and hate and pain _and he was wary of the soldier.

Inside Chaos stirred, revelling in the emotion that practically swept in waves off the blonde haired man, whose eyes _burnt _and promised revenge.

He didn't want to be Fair when the monster caught up with him.

His fingers were cold as his hands ran along Death Penalty, cold as ice in the fresh Midgar morning. Red eyes flickered along the slums, cold and calculating. Behind the mask, _the ice cold mask _the demons stirred, faint calls squashed down and buried in the _cold frozen cold._

He wondered idly if Lucrecia would have been happy, seeing him like this. Ice cold solitary _broken, sinning man_ but then he reminded himself how it was his fault _his fault she was dead his fault he had let the experiments take place his fault his fault…_

Thirty odd years in that coffin weren't long enough. Thirty years of sleeping and being tortured by the shards of memory, so sharp that he had as good as cut himself on them. As good as atoning as any, facing your own memories in your self-harming mind but even the years could _numb couldn't freeze _the pain.

Crimson eyes flared, dancing like the red scarlet _blood coloured _cloak that hung _swept_ tattered in the wind _air earth sky fire._ His deep black pupils focussed on the blonde swordsman, the blonde experiment who had, when they first met, bared away the black cloth from his shoulder revealing the harsh _dark black midnight ebony _lines of ink, forever imprinted under the pale, contrastingly _pale _skin.

And it had been proof, that the dancing flickering _burning _firelight had cast light upon. And if the harsh tattooed lines hadn't been what he needed to see, then it was the _hate _and _anger _and _fire_ emotion churning in the young man's eyes, that screamed out to him, _like knows like_.

Monster knows monster.

He would never admit it to himself, instead carefully and calmly in his rational Turk mind, pointing out the obvious differences between them, the blonde spiteful and full of _anger and hate and betrayal and fire and _revenge, all _burning in those ice cold eyes._ And he had hidden from the chances, locking himself away.

Like knows like.

Failed experiments both left to rot.

Cloud did certainly raise some points. He'd decided to humour the man, while clutching vainly at the straws trying to find the solace and the light. It was a chance, no matter how slim and not matter how narrow _and fragile, like brittle ice, frosted over the water_ and he would try.

He could always sleep off his sins afterwards he supposed. An immortal man would never run out of time.

"So I figured," the blonde's voice was tainted with his sick, _twisted_ amusement at some private joke that he had linked up. And his eyes burnt hungrily with the _need and want _to be _human. _"That if we join up with the terrorist group… Shin-Ra'd decide to send people after us. The Turks. The SOLDIERS. Fair. They come to us." His lips curled. "And if they don't…well…" Eyes danced and _burned _"We can always go to them."

The black haired gunman sighed. "AVALANCHE? Isn't it a bit crude?" _Even for you._

A shrug. "Crude. But effective. I want them to know their death is coming."

Yes, the blonde was sick. Definitely, not just of mind but of body, and he sometimes wondered how the young man saw himself. Was he the monster he had admitted so openly to the gunman, or was he just one poor lost soul among the others. A good person that bad things had happened to and so in turn struck back.

"_So what would you do if you ever got out of here?" _

He had a well prioritised list of things to take care of too, and the gunman wasn't sure what to make of that. A vendetta against Fair. Understandable. The man had ordered him to kill the psycho maniac and then left him to rot in the labs. Shin-Ra. Obviously. Their crimes were too many to count and it was time _somebody _acted. That was why he was tagging along.

The Planet?

_(When he found out the truth of his origins he began to hate Shin-Ra. Then, after time, he began to hate everything.)_

He was glad he had managed to tone the man down at least on that topic. Even then the views swung from day to day, sometimes hateful and _burning _other times impassionate _ice cold _and other times _rare times that had grown less and less and less in the time he had known Cloud_ sad and questioning of _why him?_

Vincent Valentine found the man a complex web and maze of mysteries within mysteries. Fascinating, certainly, but not what was the main point here. But then what was the point?

There were times when he still saw the lost, young teenager, _forever sixteen,_ who had been forced to grow up too fast, too quickly, and in circumstances he would wish on no living creature.

Except perhaps Hojo.

Yes, he and the swordsman had both agreed on that moot point. Hojo was considered a sort of free game between them for whoever got there first. If the circumstances arose that there was some sort of tie, then he had claimed dibs. After all, surely Cloud already had his revenge in the form of Fair.

His crimson eyes had regarded the article curiously as the _burning ice_ blue eyed man had read it, tracing the emotion the _pain and sorrow and _hate in those ice cold eyes that numbed his very core. Then the fine paper had been discarded to burn, carelessly tossed aside. _Left to burn._ Doubtless VII would do much more than that to the raven haired proclaimed hero of Shin-Ra. And he had spotted the delicious irony that Chaos had teased him with, ice cold in his grasp, of the town _burning_ the man _nothing more than a boy_ fated as an experiment and finally Zack Fair, First Class SOLDIER, _burning_ dying at the hand of him who he had unwittingly betrayed.

VII's eyes had been almost _hungry _as he had described what would happen, and he vaguely had questioned the obsession, but then settled on the fact there could be worse obsessions.

Hojo's obsession with Jenova and Project S and V and G and J's and Specimen I and II and IV and all the way up to the current XIII he was working on (even if it was part of a different project). The records of the red lion like creature had been sent to the scientists still working on site. Cloud had asked him to intercept them, and their unspoken aim was to free the beast of the mad, _obsessive _scientist's control.

Half of Hojo's experiments were fated to die under his hands, in the _mako and pain and ice _and the rest were either subjected to be puppets, under Shin-Ra's command, or disposed of and forgotten. When he first met the blonde swordsman, the blue eyed _burning eyed _man pushing open his coffin and standing back, arms crossed, announcing himself the hate was already visible to the red clad gunman.

"_You know Vincent Valentine, we are very much alike, don't you think? Both specimens, locked away and fated to die. Dying would be too easy, don't you think?"_

Then with a sinister look on his face, mouth curled in some cruel, bitter _ice cold_ smirk of resentment, Cloud had bared the pale flesh to the dim candlelight, the dark letters clear enough to the eye.

VII

Seven.

"_Once I begged for a number. To be __**someone**__ and not just __**something**__. It must have been in the first year because I stopped noticing stuff like that after the first twelve months."_

Cloud had admitted he wasn't even a success. He was a failure, albeit a failure that Hojo had poured his research and mad scientist brain into for several years before finally leaving the cripple man to die in a vat of mako, never expecting him to awaken from his poison induced slumber.

He had woken though, and he had been numbered, marked, whether Hojo liked it or not, his failures being named.

His red cloak, burnt and torn, rippled in the cold Midgar breeze. In the sky, remnant of the late snow of the day before fell to the ground, and with slow movements, his left handed gold claw let a flake slowly drift onto his hands.

Ash, he noted, and not the snow everybody thought it was. He chuckled, letting it slide to the ground of the city far below. The green earth sky was already fading, and the electricity in the air was still crackling.

The gunslinger sighed, pulling his red cloak around him tighter, closing his wine coloured eyes as he followed the blonde through the slum streets, his feet silent despite the golden metallic boots.

Someone ran around the corner ahead of them, with long dark hair and deep velvet brown eyes. She let out a startled squeal as she ran into the blonde, eyes widening and instant, quick reflexes allowing her to skid to a halt before they collided.

The swordsman only blinked his ice blue eyes at the girl, sidestepping around her. "My apologies," he muttered, but his voice was its usual deep, emotionless _fathomless_ tone.

"Cloud?"

The demon's host noted the step the spiky haired man took before the name registered and he froze, muscles stiffening. It didn't take much to picture the burning _ice_ blue eyes, blonde brows furrowing slightly before morphing back into a mask.

He stayed where he way, observing the scene. That had been his sin, he mused, simply observing, and doing nothing to stop it.

"Yes? Who are-" Cloud looked almost awkward, unused to being social after all these years. The raven haired gunman had gotten the impression he hadn't been very talkative before the mako tanks and even after they certainly did nothing for your social skills.

The woman had stepped back in shock, blinking those rusty eyes again at the man, as if she had seen a joke. "Cloud Strife? It's me, Tifa… Tifa Lockhart. We were neighbours back in Nibel-" The name caught in her throat.

Again, there was a lull several hesitations longer than normal before the name registered in the poor man's mind. Then something cleared and those burning ice eyes seemed to almost thaw for a second or two before freezing again. A slow nod, "I remember…it's been too long…five years…" he chuckled softly, a dark smirk playing on his lips, "Then it all burnt to the ground."

Tifa frowned, "Are…you all right? You seem sort of…distant…Hey, tell you what, why don't we got to the bar where I work and we can catch up."

Cloud considered this, blue eyes blazing away softly, "We're here on business."

"We…?" Tifa turned, just as the red cloaked man stepped forwards.

"We're looking for work." The crimson eyed man stated. The girl, despite well trained reflexes which he admired, flinched slightly at him as the light that crept through the sky plate illuminated him.

"Is that a vampire?" The girl asked, glancing at Cloud, and the ex-Turk growled softly under his breath.

Jokes about vampires from the blonde in his lighter moods weren't appreciated either. Even when the first sentence out of that barmaid's mouth confirmed his gothic appearance.

Cloud's ice blue eyes mocked him silently. "No, Vincent isn't a vampire." He seemed to want to say more and the ex-Turk intervened.

He regarded the girl…woman before him for a moment before stating, "We're looking for a group of people who need to hire a mercenary."

"AVALANCHE?" she asked, then bit her lip. Neither man had reacted to the word but Cloud had taken a step back, emotions churning behind his ice cold _burning_ gaze. "You know where they are." It was a statement.

The girl – Tifa – nodded, staring at Cloud, a slight frown on her brows.

One side of his mouth twitched, and for a moment there was earth green of mako in those bright blue eyes, before they faded back to the usual icy sky colour. The gunslinger drew his coat closer around himself, shivering slightly, even though he couldn't feel the cold, couldn't feel the icy frost that hung in the air, _burned in his bones._ But in the shadows of that cold, _ice numb_ smile that played across the blonde eyes, he saw a hint of the monster stirring.

"_Chaos? Is that the demon then…?"_

"_How did you…"_

"_I see a shadow of him… flickering behind your eyes."_

"We ain' takin' on two mercenary's! We barely' hav the money ennuff for one!" The dark skinned man slammed his gun arm down on the table, and the ex-Turk found himself unconsciously checking the type of weapon branded onto his arm, his own gilded gauntlet creeping towards Death Penalty.

These AVALANCHE were a bunch of fools. He could see that even the blonde agreed if the light smirk playing over his features was anything to go by. And fools like these would attract the attention of the Shin-Ra all too easily.

The blonde swordsman was leaning against the wall, arms cross and his sword leaning next to him in clear view, made to intimidate the group. He gave a nonchalant shrug. "Vincent's going back to Kalm."

Kalm. It was a quiet town and it on the outskirts of Midgar across the wastes. It was more of a village really; the sort of place people came to who couldn't be bothered to actually live _in _the city or for people who just wanted to get out.

Unfortunately, being a small village, it made sneaking around and keeping the attention off him that much harder.

Although when the black cloaked man passed through rumours flying in his wake it was all too easy to note down his direction to pass onto AVALANCHE when they came through.

The gunslinger was surprised to see that the group had both shrunk and grown. The three rowdy members, the fat man who never stopped eating, the copper haired woman and the short friendly guy were gone, and he couldn't say he was surprised. The large gun man was still there, along with the martial artist - Tifa.

There was a red cat, one he recognised even if the XIII branded on his shoulder didn't give it away. The cat, Red as he was called in Hojo's files, stalked near the back of the group, the spiky profile of the blonde swordsman hovering nearby.

Cloud's burning gaze was fixed on the pair walking just behind Tifa, a girl wearing pink, her eyes a brilliant green and walking next to a face that the demon's host had last seen printed in a newspaper, said paper going up in flames.

Zack Fair. That was a surprise. The ex-Turk mildly wondered why he wasn't dead yet.

He glanced at those burning sky eyes, considering the emotions turning within them, the inner battle being waged.

He hadn't done anything yet. He hadn't yet lost himself, hadn't yet immersed himself, _drowned himself_ in the anger, _the fire, the ice cold hate._

The red caped man had to consider this fact. Because if the blonde could refrain from retribution, if the _monster_ could walk the fine line between humanity and insanity then… well…

Maybe he could too.

And maybe…some of that ice had thawed a little bit.

* * *

**The whole style of writing is meant to be a bit muddled up, hence why there are sudden scene changes and abrupt time jumps and random quotes and who knows what else thrown together. And just a warning, this story isn't a romance, but does contain a mix of Zerith, Cloti and Clerith generally applied. **

**~ Eclipse**


	3. Sky

**ZACK – SKY**

"_Under the burning sun, I take a look around. Imagine if this all came down. I'm waiting for the day to come." Oblivion – 30 Seconds to Mars_

* * *

He hadn't expected to be seeing ghosts roaming Midgar.

First that girl he believed dead, hating eyes and cries still ringing in his ears…

"_I hate it! I hate Shin-Ra! I hate it all!"_

The raven haired man wasn't even quite sure why they sent him here. The last First of the era, the last legacy of the old heroes. The Buster Sword was cold in his grasp, his pride and dreams and honour as a SOLDIER.

But the ghosts glared at him, _him_, the traitor who had sided with those who watched the destruction and _caused the destruction_ and closed his eyes, letting the images fade with time.

But then bounding in great, mako enhanced leaps, blonde spikes tussled in the wind and a cool look of indifference on his face, despite the plate that was dropping, _falling from the sky_, bound to kill hundreds and this man couldn't seem to care.

For a moment he thought he saw a flash of the young, sixteen year old boy he had befriended as the blonde moved towards the large gunman and martial artist. Then though… then the red hair _damn Reno, I swear he dyes his hair that colour on purpose_ and then those mako green blue sky eyes snapped from their stare off to spot him, eyes locked on the figure of himself, Buster Sword in one hand and bangs falling in his face.

Fear ran through him as those calm, indifferent sky blue eyes erupted into flame with _anger and hate and pain and betrayal _his death written clearly in them.

He choked on the emotion directed towards him, even as he gasped out one name. "Cloud?"

Those lips curled back in a snarl and then one side twitched, in a deathly smirk. "Fair."

Last names now? What had happened to their friendship that he had built painstakingly with the blonde? What had caused it to crumble so?

"You're meant to be dead."

"Yeah. I get that a lot."

"C-Cloud? What-Where? Cloud!"

A sword was drawn from a sheath from his back, then another and the slotted together with ease. Tifa was calling to the blonde, but he ignored her as he walked slowly and steadily towards the raven.

His expression had morphed into a deathly calm glare, the eyes still _burning why wasn't he burnt?_ with emotion. A smirk played its way across the swordsman's lips as he drew _another _blade, one in each hand now. "How long has it been, Fair, since you left me to die in that godforsaken reactor?"

Left him to die? No… they said he _was_ dead, not that there was any life…any sign…No No No No No No!

Yet his voice still croaked out, "Five years."

"Five years. Has it been that long?" He blinked, eyes regarding him as a predator would his prey. "Five years I spent in a hell, far deeper that any you could imagine. My only regret was that I held on, so long to the foolish thought that someone would save me."

He shook his head, denying it. No. His grip tightened on the Buster Sword. "Who…where…" he still couldn't form coherent sentences as he stared the ghost in front of him.

Cloud tilted his head on one side, almost mockingly. "Hojo." The single word bore more malice and hate that the raven thought possible. The swordsman's lips flickered downwards. "Unfortunately Vincent gets first blood on the bastard. Still… I get to finish you off…"

Finish you off… No… he shook his head… no…

A shiver ran up his spine as he realised… his friend…enemy…unexplainably…wanted him dead.

Those wings were looking very nice right now.

Behind him Reno was cursing, the timer ticking down and time running out. Above him Tseng stared, Aerith was pushed out of view again, the helicopter shifting slightly in the strong winds.

And those eyes, sky blue, air blue, water blue, they burnt with _ice and fire and flames and they danced. _The emotions rolling in those sky blue depths, _burning_ ice and _burning earth and burning air and burning sky._

_Burning eyes._

He flinched, away from the _hatred and anger and betrayal _because he didn't _know!_ Hadn't known? His fault. _His fault. _The accusations rang in his ears and he witnessed the weapon of his creation, sworn to never rest until that blade, the four bladed single blade had tasted his blood. The weapon of his creating would never rest until he had burnt too, plummeted from the sky.

"_Those wings. I want them too."_

He would never get them. Instead he was destined to fall, crash from the sky, feel the air leave his lungs as the flames of the blonde and the metal consumed him.

He got a terrible feeling that he was on the wrong side, and it only grew when he saw Tseng manhandling his girlfriend. Minerva, had it been that long?

She had been terrified, terrified of the sky that burnt in his eyes, but he had coaxed the flower girl out from the shadows of the plate. She sold her flowers and she smiled and she looked at him with those green eyes. He hadn't been down to see her for… months now… When Angeal had died he had sat in the pews and cried, and she had comforted him, but somehow…for some reason…when he got back from that stupid little reactor town in the middle of nowhere…when he cried for Cloud and Sephiroth and the villagers that he never knew she had flinched back, reeling away from him.

"_Do you think they're happy? SOLDIERS… they fight and they love it…"_

And for a moment, he had thought he saw a flicker of fear in her eyes as she gazed into his, sky violet pair.

Then the blonde _moved_ and he barely had time to draw the Buster Sword, metal clashing against metal loudly and sparks flew. And suddenly the raven wasn't fighting for Shin-Ra, he wasn't fighting for his honour, he was fighting _for his life._

They flew together in dodges and twists, weaving and clashing. Cloud's sword split and suddenly he had to twist to avoid the second blade rolling out of the way.

"Fair dammit leave the asshole yo!"

"Cloud! Cloud don't!"

"Zack – Do not engage!"

"Spiky – leave the guy alone! You hear me Spike?"

"The Plate!"

AVALANCHE was calling to Cloud, and the Turks were calling to him, but as they clashed in battle it was all forgotten. The blonde's face was twisted in a silent, feral snarl as he _kept on coming._

There was a rumble as Cloud lazily ducked a piece of metal, _large piece of metal, _as the pillar began to buckle. A slab of concrete was decimated by a lazy flick of the blonde's sword but still he came, sky blue eyes _burning_ and mouth twisted into a cruel smile.

"What happened to you?" the SOLDIER whispered.

For a brief moment he saw something of the young boy Cloud had been flicker in his eyes, but then it was gone, eaten up in ashes and fire.

The SOLDIER rolled to the side to dodge a spell, struggling with a Barrier as the ground beneath his feet shifted.

He glanced up, and Cloud was gone, jumping out of the way as the ground cracked beneath his feet. Zack followed a moment later, finding a new foothold on the crumbling ground, the _burning_ chunks of concrete.

The hair on the back of his neck prickling was the only warning he got in time to spin around and block the assembled sword. Those sky blue eyes burned fire, telling of his own imminent death. A rush of frustration and anger at his utter helplessness ran through him.

"I'm sorry okay!" he shouted, knocking the blade aside and throwing a blow of his own. "How was I supposed to know where you were? They told me you were dead! Stop blaming me for something that's not even my fault! Guilt tripping me into fighting and apologising isn't going to make me kill you!"

It was Angeal all over again, and he wasn't going to do this to a former friend.

Cloud's eyes widened and as their blades met in a deadlock he stepped back slightly before overcoming it, pushing away the Buster. Eyes mocked him, "I hardly think you could manage _that_. Don't you think I've tried?"

The First Class fought back rising bile and tears. The air and ground was crashing down around him, and they were forced to leap up to a new platform to continue their duel. A piece of concrete was once again broken in half by the opponent's sword and he was forced to knock it aside with the Buster.

"_Use brings about wear, tear and rust."_

"You always wanted to be some big and grand _hero_. Are you happy _now_? You still don't see how pathetic you are, _puppy._ Just a Shin-Ra lapdog."

"_They had always betrayed me, from the very beginning. What do you know? Shinra lapdogs!"_

More dodging and he was breathing dust now. Dust and rubble from the fallen plate. Aerith wasn't there, but there were others, people and children who were _dying, being crushed_ killed by the Shin-Ra.

Then Zack couldn't see and he was rolling, dodging, leaping out of the way, until his fingers caught hold of something, keeping him stationed as the plate collapsed around him. The blonde had vanished, and Zack found himself hoping the ghost wasn't dead, wasn't lost in the plate's destruction, even as he found himself dreading those burning blue green sky eyes that burned with hatred directed at him.

And even when the plate fell from the sky, the raven wasn't on it, and he wanted to scream, for why wasn't he falling yet? Why was he still in the sky, high above the earth where only birds and avenging angels flew?

He crawled up on top, violet eyes peering through the dust, searching and looking, but there was no flash of silver, no light on blonde hair. Resigned, he staggered away from the missing eighth of the city, and back to Shin-Ra headquarters.

He'd never seen it look so monstrous, looming over the ruined city.

He'd never thought it seemed so _wrong._

Tseng wouldn't let him see Aerith. Why had the Turk even brought her in _now_ of all times. They'd been guarding her for years, but _now_ they chose to bring her in?

Tseng had done something with his hair, and Zack briefly remembered that Veld wasn't around anymore, assassinated after recent department troubles.

Oh.

Right.

The raven hadn't realised how precarious a position the Turks were in if Tseng had to finally resort to bringing in Aerith, a mission long delayed.

He wondered whether that was a plea in the Director's brown eyes, even as the bland emotionless voice told him about his girlfriend. He wondered whether it was time he followed in his predecessor footsteps.

Maybe Angeal and Genesis and Sephiroth were right.

Maybe Shin-Ra _was_ the wrong side.

"_You can't live on that side, any more."_

"Zack?" He looked up at the Turk who was looking concerned. "Are you all right?"

Somehow he managed to crack a smile but it broke, "My friend do you fly away now? To a world that _abhors_ you and I?" Well chasing Genesis around the country had drilled at least _some_ of the poem into his head. He scoffed, turning and walking away, feeling horribly Genesis-like. "All that awaits you is a sombre morrow, no matter where the winds may blow."

The Turk caught the message, and to his credit didn't do anything at all, even if he was considering counselling for the raven haired first.

Although the SOLDIER did have a horrible black eye when the Turks thrust him into the prison cells next to AVALANCHE and the flower girl – Tseng was a real bastard. He'd pretty much _told_ the Turk what he was planning and the stupid dot-man had to ignore him until he was _almost _out of Shin-Ra, then arrest him and throw him in with the terrorists.

_Who_, as Tseng had told him in that cold detached tone of his, had a mixed aim of trying to save Aerith - they reached the science department at the same time as him - and trying to kill him - Cloud looked like the cat who had lost the canary when they placed him into the adjacent cell.

The blonde had fixed him instead with his icy, sky blue gaze, like a predator watching its prey. He squirmed uneasily, trying to get away from the gaze, before finally rounding on Cloud with annoyance.

The brunette beat him too it.

"Cloud? What is _up_ with you? Ever since I found you and that weird vampire guy in Midgar I don't recognise you anymore!"

The blonde turned sharply to her, one side of his mouth kicking up in an angled, feral grin. "Why don't you ask Fair over there?"

Aerith, in the cell with him put her hands on her hips, frowning, "Cloud?" Since when did she meet the blonde? "What's your problem with my boyfriend?"

_That_ received shocked silence.

"Boyfriend? Ya' mean 'er boyfriend is a Shin-Ra soldier?"

"Why's he locked in jail then?"

The raven ran a hand through his hair, leaning back on the bunk. "Okay, I'll talk. I work for Shin-Ra. Five years ago I was assigned a mission at Nibel-"

"Oh! You're that guy!" Tifa exclaimed, pointing at him. She received several exasperated looks and quietened down.

"Me, two troopers and the General Sephiroth were sent up to the reactor to investigate disappearances up there. We met up with this rogue first, Genesis who was part of this Project that experimented on human embryos. He revealed that Sephiroth was part of another, similar project."

There was a bitter laugh from Cloud but he ignored it.

"Sephiroth holed himself up in the Shin-Ra manor for a week reading Hojo's Journals. Whatever was in there…whatever was in that reactor… twisted his mind. He… he was _insane_. He burnt the village to the ground and killed the townspeople."

"Jenova."

"What?"

Cloud cast him a hateful and scornful, burning blue gaze. "The Calamity from the Skies. They called her Jenova. She was stored in Nibel Mountain Reactor. Her cells were used to birth the one they Sephiroth. In Genesis and Angeal where the cells are not natural, mingling with their mother, Gillian's cells, it caused their bodies to try and fight it off. As a consequence they degraded."

His tone was low and bitter but everyone was enraptured.

The SOLDIER - Was he an ex-SOLDIER now? - cleared his throat. "Yeah, well… Sephiroth went up to the reactor. He was mad, talking about 'mother' and 'the Promised Land'. I…I tried to stop him. He ripped the bloody bitch's head off. Then…" his voice faltered and the burning gaze rested on him again. He was falling so far right now, he wondered how much hitting the earth would hurt.

"Then you sent me, the inexperienced trooper after the General of the Shin-Ra army." His voice was mocking. "I got ran through by that thrice cursed blade. I got tossed aside as easy as knocking away a fly and then that bastard threw himself into the reactor."

"He killed himself?" the raven was disbelieving.

Cloud's head snapped up to glare at him. "And then you were paraded back to Midgar, the Hero, the saviour… and I…" he choked, the green mako crystalising in his gaze and the sky flashing with shadows. His gaze swung round, fixing itself upon the bland whitewash wall. "Hojo likes to use humans as his experiments. SOLDIER was just one giant human experiment. At least he didn't send me to Deepground."

"Deepground?" Tifa asked.

Cloud cast her askew glance. "Vincent's pretty good at hacking and Hojo doesn't usually care much for his failures." He answered, without really answering at all.

The raven wasn't sure how he managed to fall asleep with the fact that a man _who wanted to kill him_ was sleeping…uh at least he thought he was sleeping in the next cell over.

It was sheer dumb luck that Aerith was the first to wake, and the first to discover the open doors and slain gods. As it was Zack barely had time to retrieve his weapons from the store cupboard before the blonde appeared, burning ice cold eyes.

The flower girl clung to his arm, talking to him and with a muted snarl he turned away, shaking her off. But his words hung in the air, ice cold.

"Whether I kill you now or wait, it doesn't change your fate. You will burn."

"_Whether your words are lies created to deceive me... or the truth, that I have sought all my life... it makes no difference. You will rot."_

"_I see...perfect monster, indeed."_

And then the General had knocked the apple from the auburn haired First's hand _("You will rot")_, and the Banora white had fallen to the floor, its soft and tender fruit bruised and broken. _("You will burn.")_

Genesis had insisted on carting around the fruit, labouring on about his gift of the goddess. All he really wanted was a cure… and if that wasn't possible he wanted to be recognised as true SOLDIER. One who held equal esteem to the Silver Demon, even if he never could, truly, eclipse the Sephiroth's shadow…

Then he had tossed the fruit to Zack, his beloved Banora White, and every time he took off, black feathers swirling to the ground Zack took it out and stared at it.

Honour huh?

But in the end all they were left with was dust and ashes.

"_Working for Hollander now? What is it you're after?"_

"_World domination."_

"_That's not even funny, man."_

"_How about... revenge?"_

Angeal had fought. Angeal had fought and given up, his honour lost, dreams stripped away with his own dark past. Angeal had been the real hero, despite taking the coward's way out. At least he knew what he was.

Genesis had fought. Genesis had fought and fought and lost it fighting, his own personal hell. He didn't even think the red headed man was dead, instead condemned to wander the land, revelling in the loss of his friends.

And Sephiroth had lost it all. _Pride is lost. Wings stripped away. The end is nigh. _The General had tried to take the rest of the world with him but in the end all the silver haired man ever was… was a victim, a vessel, a prisoner to the Calamity.

"_Three friends go into battle. One is captured, one flies away, the one that is left becomes a hero."_

He could see why Genesis was so obsessed with the poem when there were so many damn meanings behind the words. He wondered whether the LOVELESS obsession was contagious.

The ex-SOLDIER spun around after the blonde who was walking away, following Red XIII who had raced away following the blood trail. "Killing me isn't going to make the pain go away."

Cloud froze, almost imperceptibly, before he turned, eyes mocking. "No." he admitted. "But it does help."

And he was falling, lost in those sky blue eyes that burnt with his destruction, and Zack couldn't help but feel that maybe…

Maybe wings weren't for him.

* * *

**Zack has more quotes because of Crisis Core. And yes somewhere up in there is an inverted Shelke quote. I'd imagine that both Cloud and Shelke feel much the same when they said it.**

**The last chapter and this can be read in either order, they are just posted in the order I wrote it but the time and scene does jump around. It's meant to and it's meant to be confusing for the reader. I apologise it its too confusing.**

**~ Eclipse**


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